


Bet

by grizzly_bear_bane



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: And his cats are traumatized, Competitive sex, Gratuitous Smut, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Poor Yusuf's bedroom is ruined forever, Porn With Plot, Shameless Smut, Who Am I Kidding?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:48:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23807161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grizzly_bear_bane/pseuds/grizzly_bear_bane
Summary: Arthur knows he’s got this in the bag. There is no way Eames can handle any of Arthur’s ass and not lose their bet. Eames is going to come first. Any second now.Until Eames pulls out a cockring.Arthur gulps, his brow’s arch the only sign that he’s rethinking this whole challenge. “That’s cheating, right?”“What? Leveling the playing field?” He eyes Arthur's ass."Hm." Arthur tilts his head. "Eames, I'm actually flattered."
Relationships: Arthur/Eames (Inception)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 126





	Bet

**Author's Note:**

> The years' long Eames Thirst continues, folks.
> 
> Your comments and kudos as always are much appreciated, thank you. ;)

++

+

Arthur can’t believe he’s walked—stumbled—an entire block tonight down Mombasa’s backstreets before realizing that he’s being followed and who that man is. “I hope you didn’t leave that gaudy apartment of yours just to gloat, Mr. Eames.”

The laugh he hears echoing off the sides of the old stone and clay buildings turns his cheeks red with further embarrassment. 

“No, darling, ‘course not! I saw you were in the neighborhood and wanted to offer you a cold press and a towel for that bruise on your cheek.”

“Funny.”

“Pitch didn’t go well after all, did it? How the hell is that possible with you in _those_ jeans and _that_ shirt?”

“Fuck off, Eames.” Arthur spits a little blood onto the street, ducking under low-hanging clothes lines. He stops when it’s clear Eames won’t back off. “The mark was straight. Couldn’t have seen it coming from a mile away, but I got damn close this time—”

“To ending up in a ditch? Yes, yes, you did. Hard to believe any man would say no to you when you’re still so very pretty, boy.” 

Arthur rolls his eyes as Eames turns him around and slips his greedy hands into Arthur’s back pockets, giving his ass a hearty squeeze. “Okay, Eames, you win. I’m not good at it.”

“You did beat his ass good though. I've never seen a man that big run away from a fight _he_ started so fast in my life. But no. Not yet, but if you stop being so bloody stubborn, then perhaps...”

“And,” Arthur continues, ignoring Eames’ words and his kisses, “I obviously can’t pay you for winning the bet—”

“However it can most definitely be handled in a pointedly different way, darling.” He bites his lips, eyes already smoldering as they rake over Arthur, his hands on Arthur’s hips now. “I’ve got another bet.”

“Of course you do. Pass.”

“No, no, no, I think you’ll quite like this one.”

He rolls his eyes. “Right.”

“So there’s this suitcase, right? Full of money back in my flat.” He smiles, having gained Arthur’s full attention. “Half if it is yours, if—oh, look at how those brown eyes just ignite at that word— _if_ , at the end of the night, you can honestly swear that someone else fits between your legs better than I do.”

Arthur plays it cool, but his eyebrows are still up dangling with the clothes lines. “I don’t know, Eames. I figure your ego’s floating pretty high right now. I should warn you. There've been more than a few men between these legs since I last ran into you. I’d hate to hurt your feelings and take your money.” Until an idea forms. “Tell you what, Eames. I’m not taking half.”

“Oh no?”

“I’m taking it all. I wager that you can’t handle me like you used to. You're going to come first. And fast. Embarrassingly fast.”

“ _Really_ , now?” Eames purs, stepping closer. “Awfully cocky, aren’t you?” He mulls it over. Arthur might be onto something. He _has_ certainly… bloomed a bit since the last they’d seen each other. Still lean, still adorably petite, but Arthur is also a little more built now. More hard edges than soft curves, although that ass... _That_ ass? He definitely might be onto something. Arthur’s always been _that_ boy to Eames; the one who always gets Eames going from zero to sixty in two seconds and by the time he’s done, he’s completely run dry, and there’s Arthur, all energized and ready for another round. 

This would not be easy. "Sounds like I’ll have to do my very best, then.”

“Sounds like.”

“Oh, Arthur, love. That money will stay firmly in my suitcase—But hey, you’ll be flying back to Atlanta in the morning with at least one good memory.”

“Mhm. We’ll see.”

+

Eames’ place is as cluttered with stolen goods and antique furniture as Arthur remembers, even though the location itself is a different flat.

The forger lifts and manhandles him through the door, maneuvering past the curious cats all purring and pawing at him for food. He’s not the least bit guilty, nudging them all out of the bedroom before he closes the door. 

Arthur lands on the bed with a bounce and rolls on all fours to face Eames like a hungry tiger. “Is the game on, Mr. Eames?”

Eames’ smirk is straight from hell. The buttons on his shirt fly like bullets when he strips. “Oh yes, darling. It’s on.” 

Arthur tosses his shirt at him, eager to win. “What are you waiting for? Do you want me to beg?”

Eames’s got him naked and on his back in record time, sloppy with the lube and not the least bit caring if Arthur can take two of his thick fingers this soon. “Open up, boy,” he rumbles, shivering at the sound of Arthur’s pained moan. “I know my precious slag can do better than this.”

Arthur’s sweating and flushed, panting loudly by the time Eames gets his third finger in, his gaudy collection of gold rings catching on his rim. If he’s not careful, he’ll come now, before either of them get a chance to really get this competition going. 

Eames smirks. “Don’t whine, sweetheart. You know it’s always polite for us big boys to find your good spot before we start pounding away at such a little peach.” His eyes smolder when his fourth finger makes Arthur wince and whine. “I swear your quim gets smaller and smaller the longer you go without my… _particular brand of resizing exercises_ …” He licks his lips. It’s clear from the way he glances hungrily at Arthur’s rim gripping his knuckles that he wants to see if he can fit another in him. His free hand strokes and smacks Arthur’s ass, inching closer and closer, the big, gold ring on his thumb glinting off the lamplight. He makes up his mind to show Arthur some mercy, but not much. “Let me help a bit more.”

“Come on, Eames,” Arthur shouts, tossing his head back when Eames presses his fingers hard against his target. “You already know where my fucking spot is!”

Done with Eames’ taunts, Arthur hooks his legs around him and flips them to straddle Eames’ lap. His bouncing pushes Eames’ cock painfully deep. “Oh god!”

Eames’ grip on his lean waist is going to bruise him but Eames doesn’t care and doubts Arthur does either. He thrusts up his hips, reveling in Arthur’s whimper. “Did you miss this hurt, baby?”

“Yes!” He hisses through his clenched jaw, his teeth bared as he rides him harder. “Am I taking it good for you?”

“Oh, not at all, sweetness. Your angle is way off. Let me fix that.” He grins when Arthur screams up at the ceiling. “ _There_ , see? Perfect, my little cockslut. Look at you, riding me like you’re being chased. Greedy thing.” He reaches up to grab Arthur by the chin, growling, “You’re not leaving here without my load, you hear me?”

Arthur’s eyes flutter closed. At first he can’t find his voice. “Y-yes, Mr. Eames. I want that.”

“Good boy.” Eames slaps Arthur’s ass without warning, smirking at Arthur’s yelp. “Come on, Arthur, tighten that little ass for me, boy. You’re not done yet. Fucking milk me, or I’m going to crush you into my box springs.”

At that, Arthur stops bouncing completely, looking down at Eames with an arch brow. “Really?”

He’s wrestled and pinned down in answer. His arms are held tight behind his back, his face pressed to the pillow and his ass in the air. Eames is quick to make good on his threat. Every time he drops his hips down, it pushes a strangled, whimpering moan from Arthur. He catches Arthur’s wrist when Arthur slips his hand free to grip the headboard. “Oh no, Arthur, you asked for this. Don’t run from it. Take it.”

Arthur’s brain is melting, but completely shorts out when he hears Eames whisper, “That's a good bitch.” Of _all_ the things, _that_ has Arthur’s cock dripping with precome all over his stomach and the bedding. Moaning with abandon, he pushes back against Eames’s thrust. He’s ravenous now, growling and grunting with his effort to utterly wreck himself under his man. 

“Fuck, Arthur, that’s it.” All his bulky weight Eames keeps on Arthur’s wrists, his hands covering them in bruises under Arthur’s gold watch and his own rings. Eames fucks Arthur harder still, making even the nerves in Arthur’s throat ache. 

But he’s slipping. Eames can feel it; his temperature rising, his muscles tensing. He’s pounding Arthur’s ass exactly the way that always makes him come within _seconds_ , not minutes. “Fuck, oh fuck!”

Arthur has to sit up and look behind him when Eames suddenly disappears. “You didn’t hurt yourself, did you, pops? Eames?” He smirks to himself, watching Eames stumble over to his discarded pants, rummaging in the pockets. “Are you at least going to let me finish too before you give you the money, or?”

He sits in muted shock, gulping as Eames slides on a cockring. 

Eames grimaces. He tries not to grin right in Arthur’s fallen face, but he can’t help it. “Oh, _darling_ , that was close, wasn’t it? I forgot how lethal that cunt of yours is. I nearly died!”

Arthur glares as Eames’ erection goes from pink to red, ready to beat Arthur into the next life, for hours, if Eames wants to at this point. He’s done for. “Isn’t that cheating?”

Eames eases back into bed, crawling closer, covering him. “Me, a cheater? _Never_. I’m only leveling the playing field,” he says, biting his lip as he squeezes Arthur’s ass.

Arthur’s brow rises. “Hm. Eames, I am actually flattered.”

“You should be.” Eames gropes and smacks his ass for a moment longer. His cockhead is purpling now, ready to hurry back to its rightful home between those glorious cheeks. “Ready to lose?”

Arthur’s flipped in his back and politely folded in half like a pretzel, the way Arthur loves it. His fine brow furrows and he pouts as he’s spread open again. “You cheating bastard.”

Eames rumbles out a laugh that eases into a victorious moan as he sinks all the way in Arthur’s heat. A whisper of slick runs down Arthur’s perineum and disappears under his balls, mingling with Arthur’s precome that’s wetting his stomach. “Gorgeous.” He can feel Arthur trying to adjust, knowing he can’t and knowing how much of a turn on that is for them both. 

“Fuck, that really hurts, Eames,” Arthur moans to the headboard, his back arching perfectly. “Harder, please.”

The sound that escapes Eames at that moment makes them both freeze but Eames is quick to recover.

Not quick enough by the evil, terrible, merciless look on Arthur’s face. Eames is still pounding him as hard as he can, hoping, _praying_ it’s enough to fuck the wind out of Arthur and leave him speechless. _Anything_ to keep that boy from beggi—

“Eames, please,” Arthur begs, “please fuck me harder.”

Eames covers Arthur’s mouth, cheating, but Arthur’s face, his moans, his body is _still_ begging Eames and Eames absolutely cannot handle Arthur begging him like this. 

But the cockring. Eames growls, remembering that he’s safe. He uncovers Arthur’s mouth, his grip bruising his calf and throat. “You were saying?”

“Fuck, just like that, Eames! Please! _Please!_ Fuck me wet and loose, pin me… tie me up. I can’t leave this bed, not until you’ve ruined me! Please!”

Is it possible to break a cockring? Is it possible to come still squeezed in one? Will it hurt?

“Eames, please… Make me come and breed me… deep…”

“Fuck you, Arthur!” Eames roars, coming so hard, buried deep in Arthur as his cock forces itself to empty out in his boy. Cockring be damned. 

And it does hurt. Eames is still roaring and coming in what feels like slow motion, seeing his cock buck on its to push out as much as it can, still strangled as Eames hurries to pull the damn thing off. He fucks back into Arthur, so close to blacking out with how indescribable it feels to have his cock free to breed Arthur exactly as he’d asked him to. 

Arthur’s in a state of total shock, lying under Eames when the man collapses. He knew begging was worth a shot, but _this_ was… “So fucking hot, Eames.”

Eames moans still thrusting shallowly in that awful body. “Arthur, you cheating cunt. That wasn’t fair and you know it.”

“Mmm…” Arthur pats his back, trying to squeeze and rock his hips to get Eames’ cock on his spot with little luck. He sighs. “Well, it’s also not fair that because _you_ lost, _I’m_ still under you, trapped, and fucking hard as fuck and I really need to come, Eames.”

“Bugger your ‘need,’ you brat.”

Arthur can’t help but laugh. “ _Such_ a sore loser.”

“Not as sore as you’re going to be. You really wanted me to kill you tonight. _Jesus_ , Arthur.”

“Tell you what: I’ll split the money with you… eighty-twenty, if you blow me?”

Eames props himself up to eye him suspiciously, grinning. “Fifty-fifty.”

“Sixty-forty?”

“ _Fifty-fifty_.”

“Fifty-five-forty-five?”

He snorts, crawling backwards. “Deal.”

Arthur melts with that mouth on him. He pets through Eames’s sweaty hair, gripping it tight. “Finally putting those perfect lips to good use.”

Eames arches his brow. “Wanna see a magic trick?” He gets three fingers in Arthur as he sucks him down, gagging just to see Arthur’s back arch in bliss… before those three fingers turn into five. 

Arthur screams, coming down Eames’s throat, his thigh squeezing Eames’s head as his ass tightens around all five of Eames’s knuckles and rings. “God damnit, Eames!” This stretched, he can’t even feel his rim contracting in its spasms and yet he knows he’s never come this hard, felt it this deep, this long ever… Ever. 

He’s still seeing stars, speechless as Eames gently slips his hand free. “Oh my god, Eames…”

“Darling, you’ve made a mess of my bed.” Eames winces, teasing even though seeing his come cover his hand and Arthur’s ass makes him want to fuck Arthur full all over again… _after_ a breather. Definitely after. 

“I… I’ll buy you a new one…” He gets himself propped up on his arms, still dazed and more than a little smitten, smiling down at Eames and all the soft kisses his planting over Arthur’s thighs and up his stomach. 

Eames is loving on his right nipple thoroughly with those plush lips when Arthur hears a door open and shut out in the hall. “Did you lock your door?”

“Mhm.” His lips smack when he releases the little bud, smiling as he lightly kisses the left one. “It’s just Yusuf. His room’s across the hall.” It hardens under his tongue. “You don’t mind if I fuck you again, do you, darling?

The door opens and the light’s flicked on. “What the fuck?!”

Yusuf stares in horror, his takeout and cats forgotten.

“Oh, wait…” Eames grimaces. “I _thought_ my bedroom was a little off. Apparently it’s been across the hall all this time. So sorry, mate.”

Arthur kicks Eames in the chest to get him off of him. He snatches up his clothes as Yusuf picks up his cats to shield their eyes.

“Relax, Yusuf, Arthur’s going to buy you a new bed! Right, Arthur?”

Arthur turns back, a hand on his hip. “ _Really_ , Eames?”

++

+

End.

**Author's Note:**

> For more drabble requests, questions, inspiration pics, and updates for this fic series, go to grizzly-bear-bane.tumblr.com


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